


A House of His Own; a Prison of His Own Making

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Breathplay, Dark, Drama, M/M, Rape, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A house of his own? A godfather to share it with? It’s all Harry ever really wanted. But when it becomes a reality, Harry is forced to decide just how much he wants it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House of His Own; a Prison of His Own Making

**Author's Note:**

> Written because Sirius was just a little bit too well-adjusted in the OotP film, thank you very much. Written after the release of HBP, so contains some references to events during that book, but for the most part goes significantly AU from OotP. Harry is 16 years of age.

There had been a strange gleam in Sirius’s eyes even before Harry had finished packing the last of his oversized Muggle clothes into his trunk. It had been there since the older man had abruptly appeared in the Dursleys' living room after his long-awaited trial had concluded. Harry had been forced to stay at the Dursleys' while the verdict on Sirius Black’s innocence was reached. Not being able to be there for Sirius had caused him more than just one sleepless night. However, it had been Dumbledore’s wish that Harry remain at the Dursleys' house until he reached the age of majority on his seventeenth birthday, and a week before that happy event, Harry couldn’t bring himself to break his word on that matter.

Had Sirius’s presence in the house not been enough of an indicator of the successful outcome of the trial, the vivacious grin that adorned his face when he entered the room would still have served to broadcast the fact. Harry had never before seen his godfather so obviously happy, not even in the photograph of his parent’s wedding that now always stood prominently by his bedside, regardless of where exactly he happened to be sleeping. As a result, Harry himself was as ecstatic as he could ever remember being. Every memory he'd previously used to power his Patronus suddenly looked weak in comparison.

Sirius Black was a free man. 

The thought was equally intoxicating for both of them. Harry couldn’t stop smiling, and decided that the odd look on Sirius’s face must have been his version of utter happiness, slightly distorted though it may have been after spending over a decade in Azkaban. Harry could hardly bring himself to care that his godfather was a little the worse for wear in the emotional department in light of the fact that he was finally free. He deserved it. They both did.

“I found a place for us even before I turned myself in,” Sirius was explaining to him as they walked down the stairs together. “I finalised the purchase once the trial ended. It’s ours now.”

“Ours?” Harry repeated incredulously. Nothing of great importance had ever actually belonged to him, even in part.

“Well we couldn’t live in Grimmauld Place, could we?” Sirius scoffed. “The Order can have it all to themselves, as far as I’m concerned. They can bloody well burn it to the ground, if they like. I certainly would, if it wasn’t still needed.”

“But… you mean I’ll be living with you _permanently_?” Harry asked.

Sirius stopped in his tracks as they reached the front door, the Dursleys looking on in a mixture of interest and terror from the corner of the living room.

“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask you. I mean, I know you said you’d like to live with me, but that was three years ago, and I should have… I mean, of course you wouldn’t want –”

“No, Sirius, wait,” Harry interrupted, his eyes widening at the sight of Sirius’s face falling into a look of dejected acceptance. “That wasn’t what I meant. I’d love to live with you, more than anything. Only, I can’t believe it’s happening. It’s a little hard to take in, is all.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. Then the weird look came back. It was something close to devious, Harry decided, though somehow innocently so. Whatever that look really meant, Harry was glad to see it. Anything was better than seeing his godfather as miserable as he had seemed only moments before, after all. “Well then.”

Harry followed Sirius out of Number 4 without the slightest clue as to where they were going. He gave a brief thought to the fact that he was breaking his promise to Dumbledore in leaving the Dursleys' house a little early. But where going to the Ministry hadn’t seemed worth abandoning his word – his presence would have changed nothing, after all, though he still regretted not being there – the prospect of living with Sirius, of having a _family_ , far outweighed any issues associated with leaving his safe haven before he had to. It was only a few days before his birthday, after all. And he trusted that Sirius would be able to protect him.

As Harry wasn’t yet of age, and thus was still legally unable to Apparate, they flew by broom to London, though not to some happy little home. Their destination, Harry found as he landed alongside Sirius, was the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside, Sirius reversed the Disillusionment Charm he’d cast on both of them to shield them from the Muggles’ collective sight.

For once, it wasn’t Harry’s appearance that drew the patrons towards him in something of a frenzy. They crowded around Sirius, most of them waving a special edition of the Prophet featuring Sirius’s own face at him. 

“I knew all along that it couldn’t have been you,” one of them boasted to him. Harry would have bet his left lung that that very same man had probably been amongst the biggest supporters of the news that Sirius would receive the Dementor’s Kiss if he was found when that had been featured in the Prophet. 

He said nothing, though, for Sirius seemed to be truly enjoying their interest. Harry found he didn’t really mind all that much. It wasn’t aimed at him, after all, and Sirius deserved to be given whatever attention he wanted.

Finally, though, he announced to the still-growing crowd, “I’m really only passing through! I’m just taking my godson into Diagon Alley, so we must be going now.”

Harry had to stifle a groan as their eyes swivelled around to take him in.

“Harry Potter!” someone yelped.

“ _Harry Potter_ is his godson?”

As they closed around him for his turn in the spotlight, a turn that was far less appreciated than Sirius’s, Harry sighed.

It was a physical struggle to leave the small pub, but Harry and Sirius eventually managed to escape through the brick wall into Diagon Alley proper with a minimal number of hangers-on following eagerly on their heels.

“So, what would you like?” Sirius asked.

Harry blinked in confusion. “Huh? What would I like for what?”

“For a present, of course! I want to buy you something to celebrate.”

Harry felt the first stirrings of unease then. “Shouldn’t you be treating yourself? It was your victory, after all.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively at him. “It makes me happier to spoil you.”

There was something about the way that Sirius said ‘spoil’, but Harry pushed aside any further objections he had. If it made Sirius happy…

“So, what’ll it be? A new broom?”

Sirius had bought him his current broom, and it was still pretty much top of the line.

“Or maybe a new pet? I know you can speak to snakes. Would you like a snake as a pet?”

He already had Hedwig as a pet, though. And besides, though he’d long since accepted that being a Parselmouth didn’t make him a Dark wizard, few of the encounters he’d had with snakes had been particularly pleasant. Or particularly interesting, at that. Snakes didn’t really seem to have much to say, when it came right down to it.

Of course, the fact that Harry didn’t want to be like any more like Voldemort (who also had a pet snake) than was absolutely necessary didn't at all endear him to that idea.

“Or would you like some new books?”

Well, Harry supposed he could get Sirius to get him the textbooks outlined in the Hogwarts letter he’d received earlier in the month. But then, that was hardly a present anyway, was it? Harry doubted that Sirius’s need to ‘spoil’ him would be quenched at that.

“No? Well, of course, your father never particular liked books either, though he somehow managed to still get top marks in most everything. Oh, but he _did_ love practical jokes. Would you like me to get you something from the Weasley twin’s new shop?”

That wouldn’t be so bad. He could talk to the twins, at least, and nothing in the store was so expensive that Harry would feel uncomfortable to have Sirius pay for it.

“That sounds good,” he said, trying to infuse as much enthusiasm as possible. It seemed to satisfy Sirius.

The visit to the joke shop went well, and Harry came out of it with a few items that the twins had recommended to him. But then Sirius insisted on taking him to Gringotts, where he both had a second key to his vault cut for Harry to keep and withdrew a massive amount of money to give to Harry.

“I have my own money,” Harry protested.

Jovial as ever, Sirius merely smiled back. “Of course you do. But that’s your _parents’_ money, and you don’t need to be wasting that when I can easily provide for you."

Harry thought to mention that he’d been ‘wasting’ it quite happily for the last six years, but he thought that that might make matters worse. Sirius might insist on paying him back for all of that time or something mad and unnecessary like that.

It wasn’t that he minded the fact that Sirius wanted to act like a parent to him. It was just that he didn’t want Sirius to take it too far. There was making up for missed opportunities, and then there was being overbearing. Harry was very nearly an adult himself, after all.

Still, he accepted the money without any further complaint, happy to see that Sirius was still smiling in that odd way of his.

The house wasn’t as grand as Harry had pictured, though he found that the quaint little home was somehow enhanced by the close quarters and cosy atmosphere. He had no reason to want for a mansion. He’d had that for a short while in Grimmauld Place, and had hated it. Perhaps that house had been the reason Sirius had decided that it would be better this way.

No reminders of the past. No reminders of living with Professor Lupin.

Sirius had been hit hardest of all when Lupin had fallen through the veil at the Ministry while duelling with Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had merely been shocked. The man had fought hard in order to save Harry and his friends from Harry’s own stupidity. It had hurt Harry enormously to face up to the fact that he had been the reason behind his old teacher’s death, as much as Dumbledore – and Sirius, though he'd only done so once – had argued to the contrary.

Since Pettigrew had been killed in the raid on Hogwarts that had led to Dumbledore’s death – forcing the Ministry to declare Sirius innocent after all – Sirius was the last of his childhood group of friends still left alive. He was in pain because of it, and Harry vowed to lessen that pain in any way he could.

The rooms were already decorated, which surprised Harry a little. Didn’t houses usually come unfurnished when they were being bought outright rather than rented? Then again, what did he know about it?

What Sirius claimed was to be his room, however, was obviously decorated with a very young boy in mind.

“Sorry about that,” Sirius said, but Harry didn’t think he sounded particularly sorry. In fact, that weird look he’d had all day seemed more pronounced, as if he was particularly pleased about this development. Harry couldn’t really see why that would be, though.

Sirius didn’t make any mention of changing it, either, though he did promise to have a proper bed delivered for Harry within the next few days to replace the strange race-car construction that stood proudly in the centre of the room. Until then, he said, Harry would have to sleep either on the couch downstairs or in Sirius’s bed with him, for the bed in question was far too short to accommodate even Harry's modest height. As Sirius’s bed was actually big enough to easily accommodate five people, Harry couldn’t see any problem with staying there temporarily.

He woke up that night to the sight of Sirius’s body looming right over him, though he wasn’t actually touching Harry in any way. The older man’s dark eyes were roaming over his still body almost hungrily. It made Harry feel decidedly uncomfortable. So as not to let Sirius know he’d seen him, he shifted around as if just waking up. In a split second Sirius was clear across the bed, so fast that Harry would never have had a clue what had happened if he actually _had_ been waking up just then.

“Sirius?” he mumbled sleepily. “You awake?”

“Yes, Harry. Are you all right?”

Sirius’s voice sounded so completely normal that for a moment Harry doubted what he had seen, though he knew he couldn’t have imagined it. Nevertheless, he was willing to forget about it. It wouldn’t happen again.

“Yeah. I had a bad dream.”

Sirius’s eyebrows furrowed. “Voldemort?”

“Dunno,” Harry replied indifferently. “Could have been, though it wasn’t very clear. I have to go to the loo.”

Sirius watched him leave the room, though he seemed to avert his eyes once Harry passed through the doorway. Harry would have simply ignored him and gone about his business normally, but he could swear that he could still actually _feel_ the man’s eyes on his back.

Harry slid the door between the bedroom and the bathroom shut. Just to be sure.

Neither of them said anything about it the next morning, and in the light of day Harry found himself feeling foolish that he'd overreacted. Sirius had probably just been checking on him.

But over the next few nights, Harry caught Sirius 'checking on him' a few more times. Each time he rolled over but pretended not to wake up. It scared Sirius enough that he shot back over to his own side of the bed and stayed there. And everything was normal enough until the next night, when the same thing happened.

It was _really_ starting to creep Harry out, truth be told.

He forced himself to forget about it when his birthday arrived.

Sirius seemed happy enough when he presented Harry with all manner of presents and sang 'Happy Birthday' to him off-key. But as Harry finished up his enormous piece of cake, he looked up to see Sirius surveying him with an unhappy look.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sirius shook his head, as if he couldn't possibly explain. 

"Sirius?"

Sirius sighed. "It's just that you're an adult now. Remus," his voice broke slightly at the mention of him, "never got a chance to see this. And neither of us ever got a chance to raise you." His eyes went steely. "And now that I finally have the chance, you're already telling me that you don't need it; that you've got your own money, and that you're old enough to take care of yourself. It's not fair."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "We can still spend time together. I'll be living with you, remember? Only, you're right, I'm not a kid anymore. We'll have to do adult things together, is all."

Sirius nodded slowly to himself, but his expression remained slightly angry. "Adult things," he repeated softly to himself. 

Then he reached out and ran a finger over Harry's lips. Harry watched Sirius's finger, now slightly coated in the chocolate icing that had still been smeared over Harry's lip, made its way to Sirius's own mouth. He sucked the digit in and seemed to relish the taste of it, working it in and out of his mouth.

Okay, that was seriously weird, Harry thought to himself.

And then Sirius's eyes met his, and Sirius said once more, "Adult things."

And then he practically lunged toward Harry, his lips clumsily finding first Harry's nose, accidentally, and then Harry's lips. 

Harry shoved Sirius far enough to say, "Stop! I don't think –" before Sirius pulled in the other direction and reconnected them at their mouths.

Even as wasted as his body had become since Azkaban, Sirius was physically much stronger than Harry. Harry shoved and kicked almost helplessly at him, but Sirius didn't budge until he purposefully pulled back far enough to extract his wand from up his sleeve. He flicked it twice to divest first Harry and then himself of their respective articles of clothing. The wand was then thrown across the room with Harry's clothes – and Harry's own wand – before Harry could snatch it out of Sirius's hands. 

"Sirius, don't!" Harry said, but Sirius was already pushing him down to the floor. "Fuck, I don't want this!"

"Well what _do_ you want from me?" Sirius yelled. "This is all there is left, Harry, and I can't stand to lose you all together!" 

Harry would have liked to have replied, but he was at that moment flipped onto his stomach and Sirius came crashing down on his upper back, compressing the air right out of his rib-cage, leaving him winded.

"I see Remus watching over us every single night," Sirius ground out. "And he keeps asking me why I'm not doing my job; why I'm not being a good godfather, and providing for you and doing everything I can for you. But how can I? This is the only thing left for us, Harry! So for god's sake, stop struggling!"

He was obviously cracked, Harry decided. He was totally insane, or close enough to it so as to make no difference. Harry didn't get a chance to say as much, though, for a set of hands closed around Harry's throat at the same time as Sirius lifted his weight off him for long enough to readjust himself.

And then Sirius was thrusting against his arse, though thankfully not actually in it. Each movement of Sirius's body threw his own forward into Sirius's clutching hands. He gasped for breath. As he felt the wetness of Sirius's come slap onto his back and arse once, twice, three times, his vision blurred at the edges.

And then Sirius let go, and Harry gasped in a painful breath.

As his blackened vision evened out again with each new breath he drew, Harry lay very still, staring at the ceiling until he could actually make out the stars. He could hear Sirius's heaving sobs even above his own loud inhalations, which caused him to clench his eyes shut again.

Merlin, but he would prefer to lie there forever. He should have been able to, damn it. He should have been able to do whatever was necessary to take care of himself first and foremost before he even considered anything or anyone else. But as much as he wished he could, he could hardly deny that Sirius was still there... still crying his eyes out.

He forced himself into a sitting position and took in the sight of his godfather curled up in the corner, the words, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” forming silently on his lips in a constant litany.

And damn, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from crawling nearer to his godfather, though the darker, less forgiving part of his mind thrilled at the sight of the older man flinching away from him.

“It’s all right, Sirius,” Harry heard himself saying. 

It wasn't, of course, but how could he say otherwise? Whatever else Sirius was, he was Harry's godfather, and he needed him. It barely even occurred to him that it was supposed to be the other way around.

Harry knew then that he was perhaps even more disturbed in the head than Sirius himself.

“All right?” Sirius sniffed, allowing his eyes, blotchy and red from tears, to peak out from behind the arm he’d been using to shield his face from Harry.

Harry gulped down the compulsion to flee that swept over him then. He couldn’t leave Sirius like that.

“All right,” he confirmed.

It took little effort to coax Sirius to sit up and receive a comforting if awkward hug, though it was far from _easy_ on Harry's part to actually offer the embrace in the first place. The man had raped him, or close enough that it made no difference, and had come dangerously close to suffocating him. 

And yet it wasn’t his fault he was so messed up. Sirius needed help. He needed _Harry’s_ help, for Harry was obviously the only one who even knew how wrong things were; if anyone else had suspected, they would surely have stopped Harry from setting foot anywhere near this place. So it was up to him, and him alone.

“I’ll take care of you, Sirius,” Harry whispered.

“But I’m meant to take care of you,” Sirius refuted, though the waver in his voice indicated that maybe he was actually somewhat unsure of the truth of that himself.

“We’ll take care of each other,” Harry assured him, though he doubted that either of them was at all whole enough to offer that kind of support. He reasoned that perhaps if they combined their efforts, they might prop each other up in such a way that at least there would be one functioning unit between the two of them.

“All right, then,” Sirius sniffed. The older man let his hand drift up to trace Harry’s lips much the same way as he’d done earlier, when Harry had still been unsure exactly what it was that his godfather had wanted. Harry wanted so badly to bite down on that finger now - and wished he'd known to do it the first time as well, for that might have prevented Sirius from further touching him. Then, while Sirius was still yelping in pain, he wanted to flee as if the devil was chasing him. 

Instead, he held himself there.

“My little boy,” Sirius murmured affectionately. Harry tried hard not to flinch at the words.

As Sirius kissed Harry tenderly on the forehead and let his hand drift down to trace the strings of semen that still wet Harry’s arse and back, Harry bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut.

“I won’t leave you, Sirius,” he promised, though he thought that Sirius might have been too captivated by circling two of his long fingers around Harry's previously untouched arsehole to hear him. Harry closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could tell already that he was about to be in quite a bit of pain, for he doubted Sirius was particularly conscious at the moment of the need for real lubricant (something other than his own drying ejaculate, that was), and Harry's efforts to get up and go obtain some would probably only make the other man more violent, worried that Harry was running away.

God, how could Harry let this happen? How could he stay?

But how could he go?

“I won't leave you," he repeated quietly, his words hitching on a sob. "No matter what.”

~FIN~


End file.
